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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588341">Two Steps Back</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuagmireMarch/pseuds/QuagmireMarch'>QuagmireMarch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Mutual Pining, Thirsty Victor Nikiforov, so many misunderstandings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:08:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuagmireMarch/pseuds/QuagmireMarch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dancing with the Stars is doing a special charity event, and Victor decides to participate. However, when he gets paired with his not-so-secret crush, dancer Yuuri Katsuki, things go all kinds of wrong. Including the fact that Yuuri, a long time Victor fan, may think the skater actually hates him.  Somewhere among all the drama some dancing happens, too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>345</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Already All Going Wrong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am taking HUGE liberties with the Dancing with the Stars show here. First, I didn't want to use real people, so the whole cast and judges and etc are different. I took people from YOI where possible, a few others are made up whole cloth. That said, I'll do my best to stick to the format as best I can.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before Chris dropped the bombshell, Victor had been looking forward to spending time with his best friend. With Victor busy with skating and Chris thriving as a professional dancer, just this season added to <em>Dancing with the Stars</em>, they rarely got to see each other anymore. And it wasn’t that Victor was opposed to changing that. But, this…<br/>
<br/>
“You want me to do what?” He slowly put down his glass of wine.</p><p> </p><p>“I want you to be on the show. Ice skating is hot right now because of that viral video, and they want to do a special skaters only mini-season. You’d be a huge draw, we could hang out, and I’d get to introduce you to that dancer you’re so obsessed with. Katsuki, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know damn well what his name is, Chris. You spent last season composing odes to his ass.”<br/>
<br/>
Chris grinned. “Well, mon cher, it is a very nice ass, no?” He sprawled out on the couch, Makka resting against his legs as he drank wine straight from the bottle.</p><p> </p><p>“Not the point.” Victor finished his glass in one long swallow. “Besides, even if you <em>did</em> introduce us, I’d probably just spontaneously combust before I could talk to him. It’s a travesty he hasn’t won every season he’s been on. The man’s a <em>miracle</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“A miracle you could possibly dance with if you agreed to be on the show.”</p><p> </p><p>“Last I checked, they didn’t do same sex pairs on <em>Dancing with the Stars</em>, Chris.”</p><p> </p><p>A sly grin spread over Chris’s face. “Ah, but that’s the thing, mon ami. This special season is part of a charity drive for LGBT groups. They’re doing a completely random draw on partners. The idea is to have pairs of all kinds represented. Surely, you would want to be part of something so important?”</p><p> </p><p>“I hate you.” Victor sighed, getting up to grab another bottle of wine. “But, fine, sure. Sign me up.”<br/>
<br/>
It was a good cause. And Victor had been thinking about being more vocal about his orientation now that he was too important in Russia for them to penalize him for it. And if they did, well, he was getting ready to retire anyway, and nothing said he had to do that in Russia.</p><p> </p><p>Still, he’d never sought out that kind of celebrity. Being a famous athlete meant enough fake smiles and interrupted meals and all the wrong people trying to be involved with him. Going on a reality show could only make that worse.</p><p> </p><p>And he’d have to be around Yuuri Katsuki, at least in passing. The man he’d been dreaming about for over three years now. The man that moved like magic and made music from his movements alone. The man who had been frankly <em>robbed</em> the entire time he’d been on the show.<br/>
<br/>
Victor hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d combust. He lost the ability to talk just watching Katsuki on television. Being around him in person, Victor wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just drop to his knees at the man’ s feet and beg to be fucked raw. Wouldn’t that be a hell of a first impression?</p><p> </p><p>##</p><p> </p><p>The partner selection happened live on American television. Victor didn’t pay a lot of attention to the details. He learned the host’s names, he smiled charmingly, he gave witty answers to all the expected questions. All on auto-pilot while he took in his fellow skaters and marveled at how many of the major names they’d suckered into this event. He recognized everyone from Sara Crispino to that Canadian guy with the ‘J’ names. Even little Yura got involved.</p><p><br/>
Victor bet the show-runners regretted that one. They had to censor a third of everything out of the Ice Tiger of Russia’s mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Because there had already been conspiracy theories on the partner selection process, the hosts had opted for as transparent and random an option as possible. So, they showed viewers a collection of chips with the dancers’ names on them, put those in a bag, and then had an audience member draw a chip for each skater. They’d even managed to make the whole thing part of the charity drive, with the chance to draw for someone having been auctioned off.</p><p> </p><p>Yura got his partner first, a trio of girls in cat ears holding the bag together as a fourth picked the chip. Beaming she held it up to the camera: Phichit Chulanont.</p><p> </p><p>Victor remembered the Thai man from last season. Bubbly, cheerful, infectious smile. Yuri was either going to kill him or melt into pure rage by the third episode. Should be fun to watch.</p><p> </p><p>He watched from the screen that showed the camera shots in live time to the skaters that Yuri looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. He muttered something in Russian that Victor knew shouldn’t be aired, but the mics seemed, blessedly, to miss entirely. Probably the people in charge had just turned Yuri’s mic off at this point.</p><p> </p><p>Next up, a quiet Chinese girl with dark hair and a strangely aggressive shade of purple lipstick drew for Guang Hong. The name on the red chip was Isabella Yang. A veteran, two-time winner. Good for Guang Hong. He was a sweet kid, and Victor really wanted this to be a good experience for the Chinese boy.</p><p> </p><p>And then they were announcing Victor’s turn. The woman that had won the right to draw for him was pretty with ash blond hair and dark eyes. She kept winking at him as she reached for the bag, pushing her chest outward to almost comical proportions.</p><p> </p><p>Probably good he intended to make his being gay very publicly known soon. But, that could wait. Right now, Victor held his breath as he awaited his fate. He preferred a male partner, but he’d be okay with anyone. Anyone but Katsuki. Victor needed to actually be able to dance. And not get arrested for public indecency when he tried to give his partner a blow job on air. Or, you know, ended up with a restraining order against him.</p><p> </p><p>One slender hand with red and white nails disappeared into the bag. A chip emerged, was handed to the host. Was read. Yuuri Katsuki.</p><p> </p><p>Victor stared for an endless moment, almost unable to suck in air. Pretty sure he’d pass out at any second. And then he snapped out of it as words escaped in a rush. “Oh no. Not him.” He threw his hands over his mouth in horror, but way too late. The entire audience had gone silent.</p><p> </p><p>Next to him Yura burst out laughing.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Reaction Shot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The dancers are watching the partner selection. Victor does not make a good first impression.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dancers got to meet their partners in person at the first rehearsal, but nothing stopped them from getting together and watching the selection process on <em>Good Morning, America</em> like anyone else. So, of course, the whole crew, well most of it—the newest cast members hadn’t arrived yet – had gathered with wine and popcorn to enjoy the show.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri settled onto the floor, back against the couch where Phichit lounged with his feet in Leo’s lap. “Anyone you’re hoping for in particular?”</p><p> </p><p>Phichit shrugged. “Not really. They’re all good skaters, and that means they probably have some dance training. I think it’s going to be great no matter who I get.” He grinned down at Yuuri. “I’m guessing you want Victor.”</p><p> </p><p>Blushing, Yuuri looked away sheepishly. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>Phichit snorted. “Wouldn’t mind, he says like he hasn’t been following the guy for a decade now. I’ve seen your room, Yuuri.”</p><p> </p><p>The blush deepened and Yuri rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s incredible. I mean, five quads, Phichit. And he’s so graceful. But honestly,” he sighed, “I think I’m just kind of happy to know I’ll get someone who can compete no matter what happens. Last season was tough.”</p><p> </p><p>Leo nodded. “Every year they give you the <em>worst</em> contestants. It’s so unfair.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri shrugged. “It is what it is, but this year is my year. No matter who they give me, I’m sure I can work with them. What about you, Leo? Someone in particular you’re hoping to work with?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah. I mean, I’d kind of like to avoid Plisetsky. Kid scares the hell out of me. But other than that, I’ll be okay with anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shh,” Minako shuffled in with Isabella and Emil, all of them carrying bowls of snacks. “It’s starting.”</p><p> </p><p>Other than the clink of dishes being moved and the shuffling of too many bodies finding places to be in too small a space, the room went quiet as the first chip was drawn for Yuri Plisetsky. As Phichit’s name was revealed, Leo let out a long, relieved breath. “Yes!”</p><p> </p><p>Phichit blinked, mouth making a surprised ‘O’. And then he just shrugged. “I can work with it. Maybe we can do something to <em>Stray Cat Strut</em>.”<br/><br/>Everyone chuckled and Ketty noted the pairing on the whiteboard up on the wall. It took up almost the whole space and would hold all the betting odds and predictions they made about each other for the season.</p><p> </p><p>Victor’s drawing came up quickly, and everyone smirked at Yuuri. His crush on the man was well-known, and a source of constant teasing. He tried to ignore it and focus on the drawing, telling himself having Victor draw his name was unlikely at best.</p><p>It didn’t stop his heart from racing as the woman reached into the bag. God, he already had so many ideas for programs, things to honor the man’s previous skating routines or to show of the long lines of his body.</p><p> </p><p>And then the chip was read. <em>His </em>name was read, and Yuuri’s heart soared, a bright smile blooming—only to wilt completely a second later as he heard Victor’s reaction.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no. Not him.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuri felt Phichit lean forward and wrap his arms around Yuri’s shoulders. Could hear the murmurs of comfort as well as the threats of violence towards Victor. Someone, maybe Chihoko just kept repeating ‘that asshole’ with increasing amounts of venom. But it all felt distant as Yuuri looked at the screen and the absolute horror on Victor’s face.</p><p> </p><p>It hurt. He’d never expected anyone to want him as a partner, specifically someone as talented as Victor, but to be so actively against it—Yuuri took deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. He’d been so excited for this and now...now…</p><p> </p><p>A host had started talking, asking Victor questions. Yuuri hadn’t caught the first one, but his own name being spoken got his attention. “So, you seemed a bit upset with your partner selection. Are you disappointed to be paired with a man or is it a problem with Yuuri Katsuki himself?”</p><p> </p><p>On the screen Victor put on a polite smile. “I have no problem dancing with a man. In fact, being gay, I rather prefer it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.” The host smiled. “So, then what’s the issue with your selection?”</p><p> </p><p>Victor’s smile faltered slightly, and Yuuri could see how it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I mean, I just, wanted to win?”</p><p> </p><p>Around Yuuri the other dancers went quiet, all of them looking at Yuuri. It was a running joke among them that Yuuri got the worst partners just so everyone else had a chance because otherwise Yuuri’d dance circles around everyone.</p><p> </p><p>“Yuuri,” Phichit reached out. “I don’t know what that hell is wrong with him--”</p><p> </p><p>Only Yuuri found this ridiculous, but even he knew he danced well. Maybe not the best, but certainly well enough he could be a contender for the trophy. Otherwise why even keep him on the show?</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine.” The words came out hollow, an instinct more than meaningful response. Why did Victor think Yuuri <em>couldn’t </em>win?</p><p> </p><p>“That <em>asshole</em>!” Chihoko’s shout was met with nods from the rest of the dancers.</p><p> </p><p>As Yuuri turned his eyes from Victor’s unhappy face to his friends around him he felt something shift within him. What did Victor know about dancing anyway? He might be a pretty skater, (okay, a stunning skater so beautiful it made Yuuri ache every time he saw him on the ice), but the dance floor belonged to Yuuri.</p><p> </p><p>And just like that his pain and disappointment morphed into determination.</p><p> </p><p>Fine. So, Victor Nikiforov wasn’t the person he’d thought. They’d probably never be friends, much less anything else. He was still a competitor. And Yuuri wanted to win, too. Whether Nikiforov believed in him or not. He’d just have to show the other man just wrong he was about Yuuri Katsuki.</p><p> </p><p>Starting at the first rehearsal.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. First Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's the first rehearsal. Victor may not survive.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Victor may have gone overboard on his last shopping spree, but he wanted to look good when he met Yuuri Katsuki, and that meant new dance wear. And new suits. Oh, and new shoes. And t-shirts. Okay, so he may have been burying his mortification in retail therapy, but maybe if he looked good enough the most beautiful man on Earth would forget Victor had choked on his own feet on television and fall madly in love with him. Or at least his hair. It was very nice hair.</p><p> </p><p>A knock at the door had Victor tossing his bags on the couch in the sitting room of his hotel suite and dashing to let his spy into the room. Well, Chris was also his best friend, and they’d been planning to hang out after Chris’s first day with the Dancing with the Stars cast and celebrate long before Victor even agreed to go on the show. But, now, well, now Victor needed intel. Like how much Yuuri Katsuki currently hated him.</p><p> </p><p>“If anyone asks,” Chris said as he pushed a bottle of wine into Victor’s hands, “I don’t know you.”</p><p> </p><p>“That bad?” Victor sagged as he moved into the room and threw himself into a dejected pile on the bed. “I guess that means he hates me?”</p><p> </p><p>Chris sighed and sat next to him on the bed. “That would almost be easier. He’s...upset. Really disappointed. Apparently, Yuuri loves skating and has been a big fan of yours for a long time. Or had been. Not sure on that one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Victor, face down, peeked out through his fringe. “But, hey! That means I can win him back, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps. Near as I can tell the man is an actual angel. He organized a welcome party for me, Carly, and Minami, he put together a guidebook of the best dance spots and places to buy gear, and apparently he cooks a big meal for all the dancers at least once a month.”</p><p> </p><p>“He cooks!” Victor groaned. “God, he’s so perfect.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t go that far, but I will say his ass looks even better in person.” Chris poured wine. “Which is the good news.”</p><p> </p><p>Victor sat up and downed have a glass. “What’s the bad news?”<br/>
<br/>
“While Yuuri is a very nice person and might forgive you if you apologize and stop insulting him, the rest of the dance crew <em>adores </em>him. And they hate you, Victor. Minako had your face laser printed on a dartboard and was throwing <em>knives</em> at it. With terrifying accuracy.”</p><p> </p><p>Victor paled as he finished his glass, and then moved on to the rest of the bottle.</p><p> </p><p>##</p><p> </p><p>He’d thought Chris exaggerated, but as Victor walked into the dance studio to find Yuuri stretching at the barre he had to admit that yes, in fact, that ass did look even better in person. So did his thighs. But, cameras were on, so Victor picked his jaw up and forced his best professional smile in place. He needed all his charm if he wanted to undo the disastrous interview fiasco.</p><p> </p><p>“Yuuri!” Victor called out. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” He bounced forward and offered a hand. All without saying or doing anything embarrassing. So far, so good.</p><p> </p><p>The slightly shorter man turned and—Oh! God, his eyes were <em>stunning. </em>Victor froze, breath knocked out of him. He felt Yuuri’s hand slide into his own, and it felt like lightning running from his hand all the way through his body. He gasped at the intensity of it and jumped away before he gave into the urge to yank the man into his arms and kiss him senseless.</p><p> </p><p>A small frown twitched on Yuuri’s face to be quickly covered by pleasant neutrality. “Nice to meet you as well. So, we drew foxtrot for our first dance. I know you’ve done some ballet training, but have you ever studied ballroom?”</p><p> </p><p>Hmm. Victor looked around at the cameras as he considered how to proceed. What he wanted to do was...not appropriate. And the apologizing that needed to happen should probably be done in private. But, how would he get the man alone if they didn’t clear the air?</p><p> </p><p>“So, you know my history.” Victor grinned and leaned in. “I heard you were a fan.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri’s eyes widened, golden sparks dancing in them so beautifully, the pink flush on his cheeks alluring and charming. And then he stepped back. Just one step. “Oh, well, yes. You’re a great skater. But, that doesn’t really answer my question.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no ballroom.” Victor didn’t move closer again, but he did offer his best, beaming smile. The one that tended to have girls swooning. “Just yoga and ballet. My coaches didn’t think other styles had anything to offer my skating.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.” Yuuri nodded to himself and then turned away to move into the center of the studio. “We’ll start with the basics then.”</p><p> </p><p>Somehow he seemed even more distant. Victor frowned as he followed. Well, best to just be direct then. “Look, Yuuri, I owe you an apology. What I said--”<br/>
<br/>
Those amazing brown eyes locked on Victor’s, and the man’s already lovely face morphed, the jaw sharpening and cheekbones strikingly high and defined. Once beautiful and adorable, Yuuri Katsuki now looked determined and sexy as hell. “No. Don’t be sorry now, Victor.” A bemused smirk twitched at the corners of his plump, delicious lips. “Save that for after rehearsal because I plan to work you hard. You did want to win, after all, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Oh god. Victor swallowed and dropped to the ground to prevent the cameras, or even worse Yuuri, seeing just what effect that tone had on him. “Right. Um...I’m just...have to stretch first?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, well, at least we know you’ve done that before.” And then Yuuri moved to stretch at the barre again. Right in front of where Victor had dropped on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>If he survived rehearsal Victor figured it’d be a miracle.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Awkward Russian Movie Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yuuri wants to be alone, Plisetsky wants a new partner. Victor just wants one night where he doesn't make everything worse. Only one of them gets what they want.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All the dancers lived together in one building during the season, split between five apartments. This year Phichit and Yuuri got to room together. Which was great because after four hours with Victor Yuuri needed some time to decompress without anyone hovering or asking questions. And fortunately, while Phichit did both those things, he’d also made plans to go out with the new dancers tonight, so Yuuri had the place to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing deeply, he collapsed onto the couch. Victor proved to be a whole mess of contradictions. Graceful on the ice, he spent the first hour of rehearsal tripping over his own feet and randomly either dropping to the ground to do extra stretches or, worse, he’d turn, face a corner and declare he had to center himself.</p><p> </p><p>Not the most productive way to learn choreography. And yet Victor did. The man learned insanely fast, and the smallest successes had him beaming with a heart-shaped smile that made Yuuri melt. Right up until the older man opened his mouth. Because it seemed that while Victor managed to charm the PA, the camerawoman, both assistants that passed by, and one wayward janitor, he had very little good to say to Yuuri.</p><p> </p><p>Groaning, Yuuri pulled himself up again. He needed food, a shower, and a year of sleep. Not necessarily in that order. But, before he got to his feet, what he got was someone knocking at the door.</p><p> </p><p>He considered just staying quiet until they went away, but his mother’s disappointed face flashed in his mind’s eye, and he went and opened the door. And blinked at the short blond skater standing before him. Why would Yuri Plisetsky be—oh, right! <br/><br/><br/>Yuuri smiled. “Hey, I’m afraid Phichit isn’t here right now, but if you have quest--”<br/><br/><br/>“I don’t need to talk to that dumb-ass. I’m here to see you.” Plisetsky scowled through the hair in his eyes, arms crossed.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Um, well, okay.” Yuuri stepped aside and gestured. “Come in, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuri stomped, looking around quickly before whirling and looking at Yuuri who hadn’t even managed to close the door before the younger man started talking. “Victor is a fucking idiot, and I think we should switch partners.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed. Besides, Phichit is an excellent partner.”</p><p> </p><p>Growling, Yuri started to pace. “Okay, but we could pitch it as some kind of fun competition twist, right? Because I am not losing to that asshole and you’re the best damn partner on the show.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri gaped. “Um, well, that’s very kind of you to say, but I don’t really make those decisions. You’d have to talk to the show-runners or producers or something.”</p><p>Before Yuri responded someone else knocked on the door. Brow furrowed, Yuuri opened it to find himself face-to-face with Victor. With a startled eep he slammed the door shut again and put his back to it. He could not—<em>could not—</em>deal with this right now.</p><p> </p><p>Plisetsky snorted, and shouted out, “What the fuck are you doing here, old man?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Victor’s smooth voice replied, “I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, kitten, and that means not letting you run off to some guy’s house in the middle of the night.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s four pm, you moron.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um,” Yuuri interrupted as he opened the door, “did you want to talk about this outside, maybe?”</p><p> </p><p>Instead, Victor stepped inside. “Oh, no, we can talk in here. No need to disrupt everyone else by arguing in the hall. Thank you so much, Yuuri.”</p><p> </p><p>Leaving his own apartment would be rude, right? Not to mention he still needed food and his wallet was in his bedroom, a door he did not want to open in case a pushy Russian decided to wander in there, too. Yuuri sighed and shut the door. “Anyone want tea?”</p><p> </p><p>Victor beamed. “Yes! Do you have jam?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll just, um, go look.” And then Yuuri fled into the kitchen and stayed there as Victor and Yuri yelled at each other in Russian.</p><p> </p><p>So much for his quiet night.</p><p> </p><p>##</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri had no idea how he ended up on a couch with Yuri sitting at his feet and Victor’s head in his lap watching <em>The </em><em>Aristocats.</em> He hadn’t even known he and Phichit <em>had </em>that movie. He knew for a fact that they hadn’t had microwave popcorn, yet there it sat in a giant mixing bowl in Yuri’s lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Which kitten do you like best?” Victor shifted and turned his brilliant blue eyes on Yuuri.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, um,” Yuuri blushed. He’d spent most of the movie surreptitiously watching Victor, or occasionally smiling at Yuri’s failed attempts to disguise his joy in the action on the screen, rather than paying attention to the movie itself. He glanced at the television quickly. “The gray one?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm.” Victor smiled softly at him. “I like Marie myself.”<br/><br/><br/>“You would,” Yuri muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri chucked. “Why do I get the feeling this is an old argument?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’re not stupid, unlike some people.” Yuri looked pointedly at Victor who just pouted.</p><p> </p><p>Laughing again, Yuuri shook his head, covering his mouth with his hands. When he stopped and let his hands fall, one ended up in Victor’s hair. He froze. The silver strands were soft against his skin and it took everything he had no to run his fingers through them.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he stayed as still as possible and hoped Victor didn’t notice. Which is why Phichit came home to find him three movies later sitting stone still surrounded by sleeping Russians.</p><p> </p><p>“Yuuri,” the Thai man asked softly, the flickering of the television dancing in his eyes, “what? How?”<br/><br/><br/>“I don’t know,” he responded helplessly, eyes wide and voice strained.</p><p> </p><p>Phichit, in all his best friend glory, just laughed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Batter Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Victor is a walking disaster when he gets around Yuuri Katsuki. And it just keeps getting worse.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Victor woke to find Yuuri had slipped away sometime in the night. Probably to his bedroom. Where he had a bed. Which set off a whole set of fantasies Victor needed to get under control before anyone saw him. Especially Yuuri.</p><p> </p><p>He needed something to focus on, and his stomach needed food. Perfect! He’d make breakfast, maybe serve it to Yuuri in bed, feed him—okay, no. That way led madness. Just make something to eat. Eggs. Or pancakes. Pancakes couldn’t be hard, right?</p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes later, with pancake batter in his hair and dripping from his lashes, Victor remembered why he’d never bothered learning to cook. It tended to go...badly. At least Phichit hadn’t yelled, the Thai man taking one look at him, grabbing his phone and snapping away as he cackled.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri, sleep-rumpled and <em>adorable </em>when he emerged from his room in a dark t-shirt and poodle-print pajama pants, looked less amused. His wide, beautiful brown eyes got even bigger as they darted around the kitchen. Or, well, the batter scattered on the walls, cabinets, and ceiling of the kitchen. Oops?</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Victor,” Yuuri said hesitantly, “do you, um, need some help there?”</p><p> </p><p>Victor froze. Yuuri wanted to cook with him. Bustle around, brush against each other, feed each other samples. In the teeny, tiny little kitchen. Oh <em>god. </em>“Oh. No. No, that’s okay. I’ve got it. You stay over there. Way over there.”</p><p> </p><p>“The fuck is even wrong with you?” Yura’s bleary voice cut across the apartment.</p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t want Yuuri’s help.” Because Victor knew, just knew, he’d do something embarrassing, possibly bordering on illegal, especially with a minor present, if Yuuri Katsuki came within touching distance looking delightfully disheveled. Not to mention those pj pants were hanging dangerously, tantalizingly low on his hips. But he couldn’t say <em>that.</em> He needed a good reason to bar the man from his own kitchen. Any reason. Desperate, Victor tore his eyes from the hint of abdomen peeking from where Yuuri’s pants had slipped so wonderfully low. “He’s a dancer, not a chef.”<br/>
<br/>
Phichit grinned. “He’s actually a really, really good cook.”</p><p> </p><p>Of course, he was. The man was a literal god. He could do anything. And Victor absolutely could not let him come into the kitchen. Not now. Not until Victor calmed down. Or died from pure wanting. Whichever came first. “Sure, okay, but he’s….dirty.” The hell? He couldn’t have gone with tired? Or, just said he wanted to do it himself to thank him for being a good host or anything that didn’t sound like either a come-on or a put-down?</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” The tone was something between cold and astonished as Yuuri raised one eyebrow and stared at Victor. And he definitely took it at the later. Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>“I...you just got up. You haven’t showered.” And now Victor was imagining Yuuri naked, droplets sliding down his skin, licking them away, and sinking down—He whirled around with a croak, face red and blood rushing south fast enough to make him dizzy.</p><p> </p><p>Too bad he forgot about the ladle full of batter he still held. As he turned he flicked his arm, sending the glop flying. Right into Yuuri’s face.</p><p> </p><p>The room went dead silent for a long moment. And then Yuri spoke up. “Still think we can’t get them to let us switch partners?”</p><p> </p><p>Victor peaked over his shoulder to see Yuuri wiping his eyes. “I’ll talk to the producers.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
The only other sound was Phichit taking photos.</p><p> </p><p>##</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Victor spit out the apology as soon as he walked into rehearsal. He should have given it right after he assaulted Yuuri with would-be breakfast foods, but he’d been too busy grabbing Yuri’s arm and spewing excuses so he could run away.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri, now in black leggings and a muscle shirt—good fucking god, those thighs—just waved the words away. “We don’t have as much time as I planned because Emil needs the studio, so we should get started. Let’s start from the beginning.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can pay someone to clean your kitchen.” Victor went and took the starting position for the new routine. A tango. In some other life Victor must have been a terrible person, and this was his punishment.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine, Victor. Peach and I already took care of it.” Yuri moved to pull Victor into a hold.</p><p> </p><p>His hands scorched Victor’s skin. So hot and intense he had to break the contact before it consumed him alive. “Hey, you know what would surprise the audience? What if we did the whole routine without touching!”</p><p> </p><p>With a sigh Yuuri stepped away. “Okay, enough.” He went and leaned against the barre. “What is your deal, Victor? Do you want to win this thing or not?”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“I do. That’s why I suggested--”<br/>
<br/>
Yuuri held up a hand. “You’re not stupid. You know we can’t do an entire tango without touching. So, let’s pretend for a moment you don’t believe I’m an idiot and you tell me what’s really going on? And while we’re at it you can explain why you showed up at my apartment, put your head in my lap, and now are acting like I have a contagious skin disease.”</p><p> </p><p>Shit. Shy, flustered Yuuri made Victor melt, and sexy dancer Yuuri got him all hot and bothered, but this, this confident no-bullshit Yuuri, there weren’t even <em>words</em> for what it did to him. Would it explain everything if he grabbed the man and shoved his tongue down his throat? Because Victor really wanted to do just that right now.</p><p> </p><p>He almost did. And then the image of a horrified Yuuri running away, of weeks of awkward, awful rehearsals, of never getting to see this beautiful, wonderful man smile, to never have even a hope of more with him, raced through his mind’s eye. No. Victor needed to woo him, to win Yuuri over, to get him to do the chasing so he couldn’t run away. </p><p> </p><p>Which meant he needed to come up with an answer. Preferably one that didn’t once again insult the love of his life.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not you. You’re a great dancer.” Okay, good start. “I’m just….”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Something in Yuuri relaxed. His face softened. “Just what? Victor, let me help you.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Chris.” Victor blinked. Where had that come from? And how much was his best friend going to murder him for dragging him into this?<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Chris? You mean Christophe Giacometti?”</p><p> </p><p>Victor nodded hard enough to whip his fringe backwards. “Yeah. Him. See, we’re...” What? They were what? How did he salvage this. “We’re dating. And he’s...jealous. Of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Yuuri dragged the word out to five syllables. “So, you don’t want to do a sexy dance with me in front of your boyfriend?”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly!” Victor smiled, but it felt stretched and painful on his face.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“And the head on my lap thing?”</p><p> </p><p>Stall, Victor. Stall. Think of something! “Um...it sounds...dumb?”</p><p> </p><p>One eyebrow went up again—so fucking sexy—but Yuuri said nothing just waited.</p><p> </p><p>Shit. Okay. Okay. What made Victor do stupid stuff. Well, Chris usually. Daring him or getting him drunk. One of the two. And he’d clearly not been drunk, so…<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, that. It was a game. A stupid dare. Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>As easily as it had eased, something closed down in Yuuri’s face, his expression shifting into neutral, arms crossing. “I see. Well, I’ll talk to Chris if that would help, but we really do need to get to work now, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Okay.” Victor took his position with a sigh. Somehow he feared he’d broken something he’d barely started building. And he had no idea how to fix it.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Revenge ala Chris</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chris isn't thrilled with his best friend, but he doesn't believe in getting mad. Just even. And he's going to use Yuuri to do it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yuuri sighed as he pressed hard on the spot between his eyebrows. It didn’t really help with the headache pounding behind his eyes, but it did provide a different sensation to focus on. God, he needed this day over already.</p><p> </p><p>But, alas, the show-runners had other plans. Tonight, all the dancers and competitors got to go out to dinner together. Some cross-show promotion thing where they ate at a pop-up restaurant put together by a cooking competition.</p><p> </p><p>After three hours of Victor alternating between trying to be on the other side of the room and throwing himself into the tango with abandon, Yuuri not only had a headache, he might have developed emotional whiplash. The last run through had been intense.</p><p> </p><p>He still felt Victor’s cheek, hot and flushed with exertion under his palm, remembered the press of his firm body as they moved like an extension of his skin. An odd juxtaposition to recalling cold pancake batter dripping down his chin.</p><p><br/>Well, at least the whole dinner would be taped, so probably Victor wouldn’t throw food at him. Again. On the less positive side, it put Yuuri in the same room as Chris with no excuse to avoid talking to him about Victor’s concerns. And how, exactly, could Chris be <em>jealous</em> of Yuuri when he spent half of their opening number rehearsal trying to grab his ass? Was this some weird alpha gay male territory thing Yuuri never learned?</p><p> </p><p>Maybe Phichit would know.</p><p> </p><p>Except Yuuri found when he walked into his apartment that Phichit was already occupied. Showing Chris photos from the morning breakfast fiasco. How he’d gotten them to display on the television Yuuri had no idea.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Yuuri managed as he slipped his shoes off. “Sorry. Didn’t know we had company.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, well,” Chris drawled, “I didn’t know I was dating Victor until Phichit asked me about it, so here we are.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri blinked. “I’m sorry? What?”</p><p> </p><p>Chris laughed. “That was almost exactly what I said when he asked how long we’d been together. Because we aren’t. In case that wasn’t clear. Though I am jealous of you. Or at least of your thighs. Seriously, Yuuri, what kind of workouts do you do?”</p><p> </p><p>Still blinking, Yuuri let his dance bag fall to the floor. He kind of wished he could sink through it in the process. “Um, well, dancing? Mostly? And some ice skating?”</p><p> </p><p>“You skate?” Chris’s eyes were wide and a sly smile tugged at his lips. “Are you any good?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri shrugged. “I’m okay, I guess.”<br/><br/>Phichit looked up from his phone and rolled his eyes. “He can do a triple axel. And that thing skaters do where they lean back and make that shape--”<br/><br/>“Ina Bauer,” Yuuri said as he moved into the kitchen to make tea. He definitely needed tea for this conversation. Also aspirin.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that. His is gorgeous.”<br/><br/><br/>“So very good then.” Chris sounded delighted.<br/><br/><br/>Yuuri shrugged again, leaning against the couch as he waited for his water to heat. “I competed a little as a kid, but I never got very far. I quit when I was fifteen to focus on dance. Now, I just do it for fun sometimes.”<br/><br/><br/>“Three times a week.” Peach so-unhelpfully added. “And he’s a huge skating fan. He has posters of Victor in his room.”<br/><br/><br/>“Had.” Yuuri blushed. “I took them down. And why are we talking about this again?”</p><p><br/>Chris sprawled on the couch like a lazy cat. “Hmm, it is a bit of a distraction, yes? But, I am curious. Why did you remove the posters?”<br/><br/></p><p>It was Phichit that answered. “Because the guy’s a dick? I’d have burned them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you liked Victor.” Yuuri went to the kitchen to take the whistling kettle off the stove. “You two got along fine this morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I am a professional. Unlike the guy that threw food at you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pretty sure that was unintentional.” Yuuri took a deep breath, noting the dried batter they’d missed on a burner. “Unlike the insults.”</p><p> </p><p>A bright laugh rippled through the room, dissolving into giggles. “Oh, no, cheri, I can promise you those are also entirely unintentional.” Chris threw a wink Yuuri’s way as he peeked over the back of the couch. “You make him very nervous, that poor boy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” Yuuri blinked some more. He was going to need eye drops at this rate. “Why would I make him nervous? <em>He’s</em> the three-time Sexiest Man Alive super-skater. I’m just...me.”</p><p><br/>Twisting, Chris looked over at Phichit. “Is he serious?”</p><p> </p><p>Phichit looked up from his phone, a kind of long-suffering half-smile on his face. “Afraid so.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, well,” Chris winked at Yuuri <em>again</em>, “ignoring the fact that <em>you</em> don’t know you’re sexy as hell, Victor certainly does. He’s been drooling over you since you started <em>Dancing With the Stars</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t...sorry...I..<em>Really</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Really. Which is why he apparently turns into a complete asshole around you. His brain just shuts down. At least that’s how he described it last time we talked. When he most emphatically did not mention throwing me under the bus, by the way.” Chris sounded annoyed, but the evil smile that tugged at his lips pointed more to mischief and mayhem.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri wondered suddenly if having him and Phichit in the same room was a good idea. “And so now you’re here to...explain?”</p><p> </p><p>The grin grew. “Oh, no, mon ami. I am here for revenge. And you’re going to help me.”<br/><br/><br/>Phichit put his phone down, an equally dark grin on his face as he looked between Yuuri and Chris. “And I’m going to help you.” He rubbed his hands with glee.</p><p> </p><p>“Um,” Yuuri swallowed, “help me what, exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>Chris rested his chin on his arms where they rested across the back of the couch and practically purred. “Why seduce Victor, of course.”</p><p> </p><p>He stared at the two of them, waiting for one or both to start laughing and explain the joke to him. It didn’t happen. They just kept staring at him and smiling. So, Yuuri did what he did best when confounded. He took his tea and fled to his room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Dancing With the Devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chris gives Victor exactly what he asked for. At the cost of everything he wants.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Victor sighed and tried to shift Chris’s arm from his shoulder. “You don’t have to walk me to rehearsal, Chris. I know the way. Besides, don’t you have your own practice to do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, mon ami, but what kind of loving, possessive boyfriend would I be if I left you to wander the halls alone.” He smacked a wet kiss against Victor’s cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“This is punishment, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Chris’s smile grew sharp. “Now, what would I possibly have to punish you for, Victor? It’s not like you did anything to complicate my relationships with my <em>co-workers </em>or anything.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
With a sheepish twist of his lips, Victor hung his head. “I really am sorry, Chris. I just...panicked. We can just go tell him the truth--”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“No.” Chris’s arm got tighter around his shoulder. “This is my job. Us dating is complicated, but if you tell him it was a lie and Yuuri decides to file some kind of harassment complaint then I can be fired.”</p><p><br/>
Victor’s eyes went wide. “He wouldn’t!”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe not, but I’d rather not take the chance.” Chris stopped and gestured to the closed door before him. “So, for now, and until the end of this season, I am your doting and slightly jealous boyfriend. And this,” Chris rolled his eyes, “my darling, is your stop. Have a good rehearsal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Victor said with a nod, meaning it for far more than just walking him to the studio. Victor knew he’d crossed a line this time, and he was grateful his friend had not abandoned him for it. Though he expected Chris to take plenty of opportunities to make Victor pay. He deserved it after all.</p><p> </p><p>Chris leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Victor’s cheek. “Oh, you don’t thank me, mon ami. This is a small thing.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
The mischievous grin gave Victor pause, but before he could ask, the man had already turned and walked away. And Victor was going to be late if he dallied any longer. So, with a sigh, he opened the door to the studio.</p><p> </p><p>He very nearly turned on his heel and walked back out except his body had frozen at the sight before him. Yuuri. In a mesh crop top and booty shorts. With thigh high boots. And red lipstick. So very red, in fact, it was like all color seeped out of the world and into that ripe, plump, absolutely crimson mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Faintly, he recognized that Yuuri spoke, even kind of understood the words. But, they were gone, lost in the pounding of his heart in his ears. “Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri’s brow furrowed. “Victor, are you okay? You look a little flushed.”</p><p> </p><p>Victor swallowed hard and closed his eyes do as not to stare at those red, red lips. “Yeah, uh, I, um, ran. Here. So...yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Yuuri’s breath brushed against his cheek and then was gone. “You should get some water then. I’m just finishing up helping Phichit with something and then we can get started. Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, but are you...are you practicing in that?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri frowned, that little furrow in his brow deeper. “I mean, I was planning on it. I can tango in this just fine. But if you need me to change for some reason--”<br/>
<br/>
“No! I...it’s fine.” He probably did something with his head. He meant to shake it, but he might have nodded instead. Either way, he definitely fled.</p><p> </p><p>##</p><p> </p><p>Victor figured he’d died and simultaneously gone to both heaven and hell. Yuuri’s skin was hot under his hands, his commands on the dance floor clear and sharp, and he smelled like well-earned sweat. A smell that made Victor imagine all kinds of other more intimate ways to get him in that state. The man also looked and moved like sin incarnate. While being utterly and completely professional.</p><p> </p><p>Mostly. He stood awfully close and held him closer as they danced. Closer than he remembered from previous rehearsals. Or maybe Victor imagined that. He certainly did not imagine the warmth of Yuuri’s breath, how it ghosted over his skin and smelled of mint and sugar. So close. All he had to do was shift just--</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” Phichit’s voice rang through the room like a gunshot.</p><p> </p><p>Victor leapt away from Yuuri and whirled. He could feel the heat from his face spreading all the way to his shoulders. Both Phichit and Chris stood in the doorway, the former grinning happily and the later—was Chris scowling? Victor was pretty sure he’d never seen that particular expression on the man’s face before.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri, lamentably, seemed utterly unaffected by the interruption. “Hey, Peach. What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yura wants to do another movie night. He’s got a few of the other dancers on board, too. I may have volunteered our place. Is that okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri snorted. It was the cutest sound Victor had ever heard. “Not like it matters what I say at this point, but I get to pick the first movie.”</p><p> </p><p>Phichit frowned, but then nodded, smile immediately back in place. “Deal!” Then he turned to Chris. “Do you and Victor want to come?”</p><p> </p><p>Victor definitely wanted in on that action. He could sit next to Yuuri on the couch, let his head rest on his shoulder, snuggle up during a scary--</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Chris spat the word out as he wrapped an arm tight around Victor’s shoulders. “We already have plans.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, okay.” Phichit shrugged and linked his arm with Yuuri’s, pulling the other man out the door. “More popcorn for the rest of us!”</p><p> </p><p>“Chris,” Victor hissed as soon as the door closed, “what the hell was that?”</p><p> </p><p>He smirked. “What? You said jealous boyfriend. I was just giving you what you wanted.”</p><p> </p><p>Victor gaped as his friend sauntered out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. Hell. He’d definitely died and gone to hell.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Shenanigans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's supposed to be a fun night with friends. The hamster has other ideas.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a short chapter because I realized the next bit is more involved and going to take time to get right, and I didn't want to keep people waiting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yuuri threw himself on the bed with a loud thoomp. Spread-eagle and hair still wet from his shower, he didn’t even look at Phichit as he made a gimme-motion with one hand. “I wore the thing, now make with the hamster cuddles.”</p><p> </p><p>Phichit laughed. “Technically, I said that if you did <em>not</em> cooperate then I was banning you from all hamster cuddles, not that you got them for complying.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Not amused, Yuuri propped himself up on his elbows. “Semantics. I did the thing, so quality hamster time is on the table. I’ll take the cute calico. Have you named her yet?”</p><p><br/>
“They are called torties, not calicoes. Cats are calicoes.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Pretty sure cats are also called torties.”</p><p><br/>
Phichit loomed over his, a scowl on his face though the corners of his lips twitched with mirth. “You want to pet my hamsters or not, Katsuki?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” Yuuri rolled his eyes with a smile. “Oh, Phichit, may I pretty please hold the adorable nameless <em>tortie </em>hamster?”</p><p> </p><p>“You may. And her name is Gerbil Rat Ant-Mimicking Spider. GRAMS for short.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Yuuri blinked. “I...how did we get from having one named Arthur to...that?”</p><p> </p><p>Phichit carefully placed the hamster on Yuuri’s stomach. “Making fun of Yuri’s cat.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, okay. That’s a full story I probably don’t need.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Phichit grinned as he grabbed his shower stuff, “because it’s either long and complicated or short and boring, and either way, our movie guests will be here in twenty minutes and I need a shower. Make sure to bolt the new lock when you put her back. Arthur figured out how to open the old one.”</p><p> </p><p>An hour later, Yuuri would have sworn on his career as a dancer he locked the damn cage. It didn’t help.</p><p> </p><p>The night started fine. People arrived in two’s and three’s, Yura being the only one that came solo, probably because his dance partner already lived there, Otabek had opted out for the evening to Facetime with family, and Victor had gone off with Chris.</p><p> </p><p>But everyone else came, more than the apartment comfortably accommodated, but no one minded. Dancing tended to get people used to having others in their personal space fast, and the only person who could have made a fuss—Michele trying to keep anyone from being within eight feet of his sister—had already been the one sent home last week. Much to everyone’s relief, most notably Sara, the sister in question. She’d spent most of the night reveling in her freedom by trying to snuggle up to Seung-gil. The least cuddly person in the room.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri had snagged a spot in the corner of the couch, well, sitting on the back of the couch with his feet in the corner, but close enough. He could still lean over and steal popcorn from the bucket in Yura’s lap, and this way he didn’t have to disrupt anyone to get up and fetch drinks like a good host.</p><p> </p><p>Because Phichit, wedged into a chair with Chihoko and Guang Hong draped on the arms, was going nowhere. And from his gleeful grin, he liked it that way just fine. Whatever. Yuuri didn’t mind. He’d already seen <em>The King and the Skater </em>roughly one thousand times. He could miss a bit here and there.</p><p> </p><p>Everything should have been fine. Pleasant. Perfect even. And then it all went to hell all at once.</p><p> </p><p>A knock came at the door that had Yuuri hopping out of his spot just as Yura let out an ear-piercing <em>shriek. </em>He threw the bucket away from him like it was on fire. “There’s a fucking rat in the popcorn! This can’t be….they have to tell us if the building has rats! Who eve...”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>But Yuuri couldn’t hear the rest over Phichit’s wailing. “No! Arthur! You threw my precious son. What if he’s hurt! Yuuri!”</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe.” Yuuri looked around, scanning the shadows of furniture and edges of walls. Arthur had pulled the hamster Houdini routine enough he knew the patterns now. “There!” He spotted a flash of orange and white headed for the vent on the wall by the door. Oh, no. No, no, no.</p><p> </p><p>Not even stopping to think, Yuuri tore off his shirt and dove, catching Arthur just as the front door opened. “We heard yelling,” Victor said, looking flushed and worried. Which Yuuri noticed because his capture had left him on his knees currently starring up at his dancer partner. Close enough for the position to count as compromising. Or so the clicking of Phichit’s camera implied.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri looked up. Victor looked down. They just remained that way, frozen for a long, long moment. And then Yuuri carefully turned over his shirt, hands cupped to keep Arthur in place and presented the hamster—happily eating a bit of popcorn that must have been on the floor—as if that explained anything. He held the creature up like some kind of supplication, too stunned to do anything else.</p><p><br/>
Until finally, Chris, voice droll and dry, said from behind Victor, “As courting gifts go, I suppose I’ve seen worse. But, mon amie, I don’t suppose we could, maybe, say, come in? You are rather blocking the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri nodded and scuttled backwards on his butt, still keeping Arthur safely in hand until Phichit swooped in and took the hamster away, murmuring endearments all the way back to his room and presumably into the cage.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Penalty Box</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chris wants Yuuri to pay for flirting with Victor--whether Yuuri was or not.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the shouting started from inside Victor expected...something. Chaos, spilled drinks, maybe someone bleeding. Opening the door to find Yuuri on his knees looking up at him, that only happened in his dreams. And certainly, the situation was weird enough to be one what with the beautiful man looking at him with wide eyes and offering up a….rodent?</p><p> </p><p>“Chris,” Victor whispered, unable to tear his eyes from Yuuri, “pinch me?”</p><p> </p><p>Chris ignored him and said something asinine (probably) about courting gifts. Victor wasn’t really processing words at the moment. Especially when Yuuri slid backwards, way more graceful than scooting on one's backside should be, and his shirt bunched up, revealing an expanse of toned abdomen.</p><p> </p><p>Victor might have whined. Chris, as soon as the gerbil or whatever had been taken away, offered Yuuri a hand up. “I thought we talked about this whole trying to steal my boyfriend, Yuuri. There’s going to be a penalty for this.”<br/><br/><br/>Yuuri’s eyes went wide. “But, I wasn’t—I just had to catch Arthur. I didn’t--”<br/><br/><br/>“Peaches, back me up here.” Chris slung one arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and made waved the other hand in Victor’s general direction. “Did he, or did he not, present a gift to my boyfriend, thereby warranting punishment?”</p><p> </p><p>Phichit looked between the two men, a slow, smug smile sliding into place. “Definitely a penalty. I’ll get the outfit, you set up the music.”<br/><br/><br/>Yuuri gaped. “Traitor. You <em>know</em> I was just catching <em>your</em> hamster. Should’ve let him get in the vent.”<br/><br/><br/>“Yuuri!” Phichit gasped. “You would <em>never</em>. That’s my smollest son you’re talking about. Just for that I’m getting the make-up, too.”<br/><br/><br/>Victor, still locked in place in the doorway, finally managed to find words. “What is even happening right now?”</p><p> </p><p>“A disaster in the making.” Yuuri sighed and turned towards the kitchen. “You might as well come in and enjoy it. Want a drink?”</p><p> </p><p>“Beer?” Victor wasn’t sure why he made it a question other than he’s now faced with a perfect view of Yuuri’s ass, and words were hard.</p><p> </p><p>Fortunately, the other man just waved in acknowledgment and walked away. Victor’s pretty sure he wasn’t the only one that couldn’t look away as he left.</p><p> </p><p>##</p><p> </p><p>Chris had finally decided to kill him. That was the only reason Victor could imagine for why he and Phichit had somehow coerced Yuuri into pole dancing as a punishment for the flirting he (lamentably) had not been doing with Victor. The fact that Phichit <em>had</em> Chris’s sparkly pink collapsible pole already in the apartment said all kinds of things that were bad for Yuuri and possibly worse for Victor.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, when Yuuri came out with no glasses, glittery body spray, and perfectly winged eyeliner, dressed only in a pair of very short white denim cut-offs, Victor found it impossible to be worried or mad or anything but utterly fascinated.</p><p> </p><p>The music was some pop song about it being too late to apologize, not one Victor knew, but it didn’t matter. He barely heard it with his attention narrowed down to the way Yuri moved. And Victor knew nothing about pole dancing, couldn’t have named any of the moves, but he knew on a visceral level that Yuuri made them more somehow than they were meant to be. He took this type of dance that Victor only associated with being titillating and turned it into pure art. There was nothing lascivious in the graceful lines and pure, undiluted heartbreak that weaved through Yuuri’s ever motion.</p><p> </p><p>Victor only started breathing again when he finished, not even aware he’d stopped until he started gasping in great gulps of air. Around him the other dancers and contestants applauded and Yuuri, face flushed either from exertion or embarrassment, bowed once and then fled back to his bedroom, probably to change.</p><p> </p><p>Victor hoped he left the make-up on. It suited him.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri returns in a hoodie a size too big and yoga pants. The eyeliner was gone, but the glitter remained. Would probably remain for days. Victor knew from experience that stuff was harder to get rid of than caffeine habit.</p><p> </p><p>Victor considered saying something—anything – but that usually went poorly with Yuuri, so instead he sipped his beer and watched the man slump onto the couch, attention fixed on his phone.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, guys,” Yuuri called out, voice distracted, “did anyone else get this email from the producers?”</p><p> </p><p>The words started a flurry of activity as all the dancers reached for their phones and then groaned almost in unison. “Well, fuck,” Chihiko spat vehemently. She looked so small and innocent, it always caught Victor off-guard when she cursed like a biker-gang reject that just stubbed his toe. She reminded him of Yura that way, actually.</p><p> </p><p>And speaking of, the blond chimed in with, “What? What the hell is going on?”</p><p> </p><p>People started talking at once, but Minako released a sharp whistle and claimed the floor. “Producers aren’t releasing our dance assignments for next week after next until the results show this week. Which gives us fuck-all time to choreograph. Worse, it means they’re up to something, one of their big surprises that always make things ten times harder on us than leaving well-enough alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does this sort of thing happen a lot?”</p><p> </p><p>Victor nodded and made a ‘what she said’ gesture in Sara’s general direction. Probably, anyway. He made it towards where the voice came from, but Yuuri had tilted his head to rest against the back of the couch, and Victor couldn’t tear his eyes from the long line of the man’s throat. He desperately wanted to feel it beneath his teeth, to leave the pale skin bruised and kiss-bitten.</p><p> </p><p>“Once or twice a season,” Minako answered, but Victor, wrapped in his fantasies, couldn’t even remember what question had been asked.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Round and Round They Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The producers introduce a twist that has everyone upset. Victor decides to get even.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so in case people want to know the pairs to date are:<br/>Yuuri/Victor<br/>Phichit/Yuri<br/>Minako/Otabek<br/>Leo/JJ<br/>Minami/Michele - Voted off<br/>Isabella/Guang Hong<br/>Emil/Seung-gil<br/>Ketty/Jane<br/>Chihoko/Sara<br/>Chris/Mila<br/>Min-So/Kanako<br/>Yuuko/Ashley<br/>Georgi/Anya</p><p>Some of the female characters are named for minor characters, some made up whole cloth, and one is a joke from the Yuri on Stage event.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yuuri stood on stage, Victor’s hand warm in his own. Despite fairly high scores from the judges (eight from Lilia, nines from Josef and Celestino) the votes had come in and either they or Yuuko and Ashley were leaving the competition, Leo and JJ having already been declared safe. It had not escaped Yuuri’s attention that none of the male-female pairings had been in the bottom yet, and the thought infuriated him.</p><p> </p><p>However, right now, with the black lace collar of his costume making his neck itch and Victor’s nails tearing little crescents into his palm, Yuuri breathed deeply and schooled his face into a mask of calm concern. He didn’t have the power to change the viewers, just to try and put forth the best performances he could. And Victor deserved to stay.</p><p> </p><p>If only so they could finally sort out the tension between them.</p><p> </p><p>The hot spotlight moved down, pulling sweat through their skin, giving Yuuri and Victor’s palms a slick slide against each other as Morooka stepped between the two waiting couples with a blue card in his hand and a serious expression. “Yuuri and Victor, you danced the tango. Lilia said it showed marked improvement but lacked focus, Celestino called it scorching hot, and Josef declared you to a couple to watch out for.” He took then turned to the other couple, “Yuuko and Ashley, you danced a quickstep. Josef called it a valiant effort, Lilia felt it got a little chaotic, and Celestino praised your chemistry together on what he called the most difficult of ballroom dances.”</p><p> </p><p>Morooka paused as he flipped the card open. “Yuuri and Victor, the viewers have spoken. You are safe this week. Yuuko and Ashley, I’m afraid that means your time on the dance floor has come to an end.”</p><p> </p><p>Other things happened after that, but Yuuri didn’t process them, too distracted by the lovely man at his side clutching him in a tight hug. “I’ll do better,” Victor whispered in his ear. “I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri pulled away slightly, enough to meet Victor’s eyes. “You danced beautifully. This isn’t on you.” Arm around his waist, Yuuri led his partner off to the side where the other dancers waited, all of them offering hugs while Ashley’s farewells were done center stage.</p><p> </p><p>Ordinarily, now they’d all dance for the cameras to get footage for the credits and then be able to get some food. But, instead, after Yuuko and Ashley exited stage left, Morooka called everyone back up to the center stage. “Dancers, this week we have a surprise for you all. In order to keep things exciting, we’re introducing the Partner Roulette. Starting tonight, the contestant with the highest viewer votes and the remaining contestant with the lowest votes will switch partners!”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri stared, only barely able to keep the horrified expression from his face. It took time to adapt to a partner, to learn their style and limits. Mixing things up mid-competition meant starting all over, potentially <em>every week</em>. No one wanted that.</p><p> </p><p>Except, apparently, the producers. Because drama.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck?” Yuri hissed like a scalded cat. “This is not what I fucking meant when I said I wanted --” Phichit did something—Yuuri didn’t see what—and the boy quieted down. Chihoko, using every curse under the sun under her breath, did not.</p><p> </p><p>Morooka waited for the murmurs from the audience to die down, and then proceeded. “This week, Chris and Mila got the highest number of votes. Victor, you had the lowest. That means, starting now Mila, you will be dancing with Yuuri and Victor, you will be dancing with Chris!”</p><p> </p><p>The host went over to Mila first. “Mila, are you sad to be separated from Chris?”</p><p> </p><p>The redhead squeezed Chris’s hand but offered a smile. “Yeah, we really clicked during this process, but I know Yuuri will be an awesome partner, too.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sure he will.” Morooka moved to Victor. “Victor, you had some strong feelings when you were assigned to dance with Yuuri. Is this a welcome change for you?”</p><p> </p><p>Victor scowled, eyes dark. “No. This whole switch-up is ridiculous. We work hard to build a bond with these dancers and just tearing all that down is akin to sabotage.”</p><p> </p><p>Morooka blinked, mouth gaping open for just a second before he forced a smile back into place. “Well, I can see this new rule is going to get people fired up. Let’s show it on the dance floor. And, that is all the time we have for tonight!”</p><p>The ending music started suddenly, but instead of dancing everyone just huddled together talking quietly. Eventually, as the audience streamed out, a production assistant arrived with a sheepish look and the assignments for next week.</p><p> </p><p>Dinner that night was a quiet affair, everyone scrambling to eat and then get their choreography done. Yuuri meant to spend some time with Mila. She’d come to movie night, but they’d had little chance to get to know each other. Instead, he got sandwiched in a booth with Chris, Phichit, and Victor. “So,” Chris said, face serious, “this is going to be a catastrophe. Any ideas?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have one.” Victor stabbed a french fry into a mix of ketchup and mayo. “If they want drama, let’s give it to them.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri frowned. “Messing around while dancing can be dangerous. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who said anything about dancing?” Victor smiled, teeth glinting and eyes dancing with mischief. “Hey, Chris, how do you feel about breaking up on air?”</p><p> </p><p>Chris laughed. “I think it sounds like an excellent way to get fired, but what a way to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Guys,” Yuuri tried to interject, “you can’t--”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, but they <em>can</em>,” Phichit said gleefully. “And we’re going to help!”</p><p> </p><p>He looked around, but the other three were all exchanging evil smiles and talking over each other as they plotted, so Yuuri just sighed and put his head down on the table. He didn’t need this job anyway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Everything Old is New Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The plan, such as it is, is revealed to the other dancers. So, are a bunch of things no one intended to have come out right then.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Victor and Mila walked into Yuuri and Phichit’s apartment two days before the performance show. Phichit declared all the dancers needed in on the plan, and he invited Mila and Victor since it involved them as well. Crowded and loud, Mila dived onto the couch, wedging herself between Georgi and Chihoko. </p><p>“Something to drink?” Yuuri called from the kitchen. </p><p>“Anything carbonated!” Mila shouted, elbowing Georgi hard in the side to get more room.</p><p>Victor said nothing, too enraptured by the sight of Yuuri with messy hair and a poodle apron. His glassed hung askew, his dark t-shirt covered in flour. The man often looked much hotter, but sexy had never been Victor’s secret weakness. Domesticity, however, very much was, and right that moment he couldn’t have formed words if the building had been on fire. </p><p>‘Please, please,’ he thought fervently, ‘do not let him be barefoot.’</p><p>“Victor?” Yuuri’s voice was soft, concerned.</p><p>“Huh? Oh, um...what?”</p><p>“Did you want something to drink? We have soda, tea, coffee, water, um...almond milk? I think. Unless you drank the rest of it?” That last was directed at Phichit who also stood in the kitchen in an apron. </p><p>Victor couldn’t have cared less whether Phichit had shoes on or not.  “Soda is fine. Thanks.”</p><p>“So,” Mila said, catching the soda Phichit tossed her, “what’s going on?”</p><p>Phichit handed Victor his soda. Probably for the best since Victor still hadn’t managed to tear his eyes from Yuuri. The dark-haired man had moved to stand over a pot large enough to belong to the witches in Hamlet. Or maybe it was Macbeth. Victor preferred French literature. The point was, Yuuri stood there smiling softly while he stirred something that smelled like heaven and when he tasted his creation and let out a little hum of pleasure Victor nearly died. He had never wanted to be an eating utensil more in his life.</p><p>Phichit not so gently shoved Victor out from in front of the door. “So, everyone is pissed about this new partner change thing, so pretty boy here suggested we give them all the drama the producers could want. So, Chris is going to dance with Yuuri during the feature section of the group number, Victor is going to feign losing his shit, and then the two are going to do a whole fake break up, right on live television.”</p><p>Chihoko frowned. “Can you break up if you aren’t dating? Even if it’s fake?”</p><p>“Pretty sure,” Leo said from his beanbag, “you can only fake break up when you aren’t dating.”</p><p>What? Victor looked at Chris with big eyes. His best friend had made it seem like he’d be fired on the spot if the other dancers found out Victor had lied, but right now he looked completely unconcerned.</p><p>“Wait,” Yuuko poked her head out from the side of the couch where she must have been sitting out of Victor’s sight, “when did the whole ‘act like we find it even remotely believable that Chris and Victor are dating’ shtick end. Did Yuuri finally figure out they weren’t?”</p><p>And now Chris was laughing. Laughing! The hell?</p><p>Yuuri looked up. “Oh, I knew they weren’t from the beginning. Chris just wanted me to play along to torture Victor.”</p><p>“What?” Victor blinked rapidly then shot his best puppy dog eyes at Yuuri. “But, but, you’re my partner! How could you do that to me?”</p><p>“Well,” Yuuri said with an unapologetic shrug, “you had basically done nothing but insult me at the time so, you know, it wasn’t really a hard choice. Especially after,” he added with a small smirk, “Chris explained why you’d been so mean.”</p><p>“Oh?” Victor turned a hard glare of Chris. “And what, exactly did he tell you?”</p><p>“That’s probably a discussion we should have later.” He shot a playful frown at Chris. “For now, I’m just glad it being out in the open means no more stupid ‘penalties’ where I have to prance around half-naked.”</p><p>At that the dancers all turned and jokingly threw pillows at Leo and Chihoko for ‘spoiling the fun.’ Victor debated joining in, but then he saw the soft blush on Yuuri’s cheeks, and decided whatever conversation happened later mattered a whole lot more than seeing Yuuri in hot pants again. </p><p>Maybe, if lucky, Victor would get to see him in a whole lot less.</p><p>“Anyway,” Phichit yelled, “they will have a blow-out fight, much drama, probably some major fall-out. Just wanted to let you all know so you could prepare.”</p><p>“Won’t people get in trouble though?” Yuuko looked at Yuuri. “I know you’re leaving after this season, but--”</p><p>The room exploded, all the dancers talking over each other, everyone suddenly on their feet and staring at Yuuri, some looking shocked, others demanding an explanation.  Yuuko looked horrified. Victor probably did, too, but this wasn’t about him.</p><p>Yuuko ran and threw her arms around Yuuri. “I’m so sorry. I thought people knew!”</p><p>“It’s fine. I’ve been meaning to bring it up anyway.” Yuuri hugged her and smiled down into her hair. He looked up at the others and waited until they’d calmed down. “So, Phichit knows this because he was here when I got the call, but I’ve been offered a place in a small ballet troupe in Russia, and it comes with a position teaching at the Vaganova when I’m not actively performing. I’ll be moving a few weeks after this season ends.”</p><p>Victor stared. “Ballet? You do ballet?”</p><p>Phichit burst out laughing. “He does mostly ballet. Even now he teaches back in Japan and performs all over the country.”</p><p>“I only started Dancing With the Stars because Phichit recommended me my parents needed the extra money it brought in to make repairs at their onsen. I always planned to go back to ballet full-time when I got the chance.</p><p>“I’m more worried about Chris in all of this.” Yuuri looked over at the taller man. “You know you really could be fired. They’d just bring Minami or Yuuko back.”</p><p>“Not that I’ve had a chance to leave yet.” Yuuko grinned. Victor had learned from Yuuri that she lived in an apartment in the city with her husband, so even when not on the show she tended to always be around.</p><p>“Pretty sure I’d be out at the end of the season regardless.” Chris leaned against the counter like a lounging cat. “The producers have already called me out repeatedly for being too sexy for a family show.”</p><p>He didn’t look terribly upset about it, but Victor knew he hid genuine pain well. He’d take him out later and make sure he got a chance to talk if he wanted it.</p><p>The room went quiet at that, maybe just people processing the many bombshells so far. Still, they huddled close and conversed softly as Yuuri dished out soup, and Victor couldn’t help but feel like that was what family felt like.</p><p>He never wanted to leave.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Finale</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have to admit, for some reason I struggled a LOT with this work. I'm not entirely sure I love this ending either, but the truth is that stressing over this has made it harder to work on other things, so I am calling it good a moving on. Thank you to all of you that have read and enjoyed this story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Victor two days to pin Yuuri down and talk, and when he finally did, it was as the man came out of a studio, hair sweat-damp and skin flushed. Victor may have forgotten how to speak entirely for several long moments.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh!” Yuuri’s eyes widened as he spotted Victor in the hall. “Victor. Um..we should, you know, talk. Soon.”<br/><br/><br/>Victor swallowed. Stared. Swallowed again. “I’m free now.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Ah...” Yuuri looked down at himself with a sheepish smile. “Give me five minutes to shower?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I watch?” Victor stared in horror as the words that had tumbled from his mouth registered and he slammed his hands over his mouth. As if that did anything to help. “I am so sorry. I meant...I mean...”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri laughed. “At least it wasn’t an insult. That’s progress, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Blush riding high on his cheeks, all Victor could do is nod. “Meet me at the cafe across the street. I’ll buy you coffee?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” Yuuri tilted his face down, hiding it in his shoulder, but ears pink.</p><p> </p><p>It took Yuuri four minutes and thirty-seven seconds to slide into the booth across from him. Not that Victor had been counting or anything.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Yuuri wrapped his hands around the ceramic mug waiting for him, “Chris thinks you have a crush on me and that’s why you were so mean.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t intend to be. You just make me very nervous.” Victor flicked his hair from his face and stared into his coffee. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay.” Yuuri reached over as if to put a hand on Victor’s where it rested on the table, but he paused and let his drop a couple inches away instead. “I...well, I’ve been a big fan of yours for a long time, so...yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Victor looked up and met Yuuri’s eyes, captivated by the way the gold flecks danced within them, so distracted he almost missed the lovely blush that colored his cheeks. Almost.</p><p> </p><p>“Really.” Yuuri breathed the word out as a sigh, teeth digging into his bottom lip and eyes flicking down and away, then back to peer at Victor through thick lashes.</p><p><br/>Victor swore he felt his heart stop, but he shored up his courage and stretched to close those few inches between them and took Yuuri’s hand. When Yuuri responded by lacing their fingers together with the sweetest smile, Victor’s heart restarted so fast and hard it felt about to burst.</p><p><br/>##</p><p> </p><p>The night of the show Victor’s skin buzzed. He didn’t know if anticipation or anxiety caused the sensation, but it hardly mattered. The opening number started in ten minutes. After that it’d all be over, one way or another.</p><p> </p><p>As long as it ended with Yuuri in his arms, Victor didn’t care how the rest played out.</p><p> </p><p>They’d only gone over the roughest of plans so that reactions stayed as genuine as possible. Victor knew Chris intended to do <em>something</em> during his feature with Yuuri, but not what. But it was Chris, so Victor felt his trepidation as the music started to be entirely earned. Ass-grabbing seemed the most likely offense.</p><p> </p><p>At first, he thought he’d missed his cue. The segment was pretty sexy as planned, and there were a few moments that might have been intended to send a boyfriend into a tizzy. But, no. Chris has something far, far worse planned. Just at the end of their part, Chris dipped Yuuri back and kissed him. Hard.</p><p><br/>Yuuri clearly hadn’t been prepared for that as he went dead still, face shock pale and eyes wide, then pushed Chris away, trying—and mostly failing given the expression on his face—to make it look like an intentional part of the dance.</p><p> </p><p>Victor made it halfway across the stage before he’d even thought about moving. He knew they’d agreed to stage all of this, but poor Yuuri looked <em>horrified</em>. So, when Victor reached the pair and slapped Chris across the face, he didn’t have to do much acting to seem pissed.</p><p> </p><p>Chris laughed. <em>Laughed.</em> And then they were in each others’ faces shouting in a mix of languages—English, French, Russian—until Phichit and Yuuri pulled them apart as in the background calls for a commercial break frantically filled the air.</p><p> </p><p>“Victor,” Yuuri called, his voice soft and breath warm against his ear. He’d wrapped his arms around Victor’s sides, trapping his arms, and had bodily lifted Victor up and away from Chris. “Victor, calm down.”</p><p> </p><p>Victor took a deep breath, taking in the scent of mint shampoo and stage make-up and that heady something uniquely Yuuri. Another breath, and then he deflated. “I’m okay,” Victor smiled sheepishly. “I may have gotten a bit too into character there. Is Chris okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri loosened his hold enough to turn Victor and look him in the face. “Phichit and a security guy took him backstage. You split his lip open.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oops.” Victor looked into Yuuri’s eyes and then down at the stage. “I should probably go apologize, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think he took it personally, given he cackled the whole way, but it’d probably be a good idea.” Yuuri caught Victor’s chin and forced his face up. “What happened there?”</p><p> </p><p>“I just…” Victor sighed. “You looked so <em>upset</em>. I overreacted.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri released a soft huff that could have been a sigh or a laugh. “Yeah, that was <em>not</em> what we agreed on.” He shook his head and let out another little sound, an abbreviated chuckle. “I guess it worked though. Victor,” Yuuri took a deep breath, paused. Then he squared his shoulders and took Victor’s hands. “Look, there have been a lot of games and plots and dancing around—both literal and metaphorical, and—let’s end this, Victor. I don’t want to play anymore. I just...I like you, a lot. And I want to see if we could maybe be something without all the drama. If you want that too?”</p><p> </p><p>Victor’s breath caught in his throat and he felt his hands tremble in Yuuri’s. The words, when he forced them out, were breathless. “I do. I really do.”</p><p> </p><p>A brilliant, beaming grin broke Yuuri’s face like the sunrise breaching the horizon. So warm and amazing it knocked the air from Victor’s lungs. “So, I’m moving to Russia soon. Coffee?”</p><p> </p><p>“Dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri grinned. “Why not both?”</p><p> </p><p>“Both is good.” Victor smiled so hard his cheeks hurt, and somewhere in the background he heard people talking around him, maybe at him. Questions about contracts and charges and fines. Victor ignored them as he pulled Yuuri into his arms.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t kiss Yuuri. Not yet, not here. It felt too impersonal. But he would. Soon. They had all the time in the world after all.</p><p> </p>
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